Winter
by Shuro Yuu
Summary: Life had never been particularly kind to the Elric brothers. But despite all the obstacles and adversities they’d faced and conquered, none could compare to the final and cruelest blow of them all. Shounenai undertones, slight Elricest. Deathfic.


Life had never been particularly kind to the Elric brothers. But despite all the obstacles and adversities they'd faced and conquered, none could compare to the final and cruelest blow of them all.

Alphonse Elric didn't know what was worse, living as a soul bound to armor, growing up without his brother, or finally, after so much sacrifice, finding out that said brother only had three months to live.

To say that life wasn't fair would be a grave understatement.

He wandered the hospital grounds aimlessly, bundled up untidily in Edward's long brown coat, fists stuffed into the deep recesses of it's pockets, the smell of oil and new books, chalk and ink, sweat and coffee all mingling together, reminding him painfully of the reason he was wandering the hospital in the first place.

The paved, cobblestone streets were all but empty save for the few wandering souls who drifted in and out of the great wooden doors, most of them looking weary and grim, as if walking the path down to the gallows. And even though this place was so full of dark thoughts and dreary prospects, Al still kept that small hope alive, the hope that his visits to this place would soon be nothing but a bad memory; one in a stringed series of unfortunate events that inevitably would lead up to the culmination of their 'happily ever after'.

It was a lovely day, one of those days in winter where the air was light, the sun shining, strong and bright and full of warmth against the chilly wind carrying a bite to it, slapping your cheeks with cold, making blood flare in your face, reminding you of the fact that you were able to breathe normally, able to walk out in the sun, breathe that crisp morning air, enjoy life while your brother lay weak and dying.

His dirty blond fell into his wide olive eyes as he looked up at the sky, at the fluffy white clouds that drifted by, at the flock of birds that flew past, eyes straying, back to the drab brown building sitting in the middle of great oak trees.

He stared fixedly at a single closed-draped window, the backs of his eyes stinging, deep in the bottom of his heart, knowing, feeling that even as he hoped and prayed, life would undoubtedly hand them the worst deal of cards, simply because it was the way life worked.

There existed no 'Equivalent Exchange' in this place- in this world of politics and war, science and religion.

Alphonse hunched his shoulders, trying vainly to shield himself from the bitter wind beating against his back. He kept to the shadows as he made his way through the winding path of the gardens, shying away from the bright sunlight as the sunbeams only reminded him of silky blonde hair sliding through his fingertips, as the sun glinting off a golden chain reminded him of a pair of wide eyes that stared back at him with infinite love. A fierce, unwavering, unbreakable emotion that he was sure he would take to his dying breath.

It was no use. Try as he might, he'd never be able to escape the enormity, the sheer strength that his brother had always represented.

Wearily, he made his way back inside, passing the nurses who simply smiled sadly at him. He wanted to scream at them, "Don't be SAD. Don't just STAND there and let my brother die! Do you have any idea of what we've been through? Do you KNOW what we've given up for each other?"

He wanted to rage at the world, at the sky, at the god his brother had long since stop believing in, to the god he was beginning to believe never really existed.

He reached his brother's door, and turned the knob. Slowly, as quietly as he was able to, he opened the door, and let himself into the darkness that was now his brother's world. "Brother?" he couldn't help it that his voice was so weak, so lacking in emotion, so tired and dead.

But he needn't have worried himself. His brother was still as stone on the rickety old bed they'd given him; his chest rose and fell with deep, harsh breathing, a slight wheeze punctuating the shallow intake of breaths.

Alphonse slid inside silently, the little to no lighting casting Edward's pale and gaunt face into deep shadows, worsening his appearance and making him look like a corpse, frightening Alphonse so bad he thought he might just scream then and there, fling himself at the prone body laying before him and sob his heart out.

But no, Edward managed to slit open his eyes, dark gold glinting dully, painfully, "Al?" the voice was weak, a low croak of dry lips, contracting throat, so quiet he could barely hear a voice at all.

Alphonse made himself move, willed his legs to walk, to sit next to that deathbed and stare at his brother's wasted body with eyes that stung, but remained dry, "I'm here, Brother." he whispered, his voice not letting him be strong, hands shaking as they reached for a bony hand, clung to the dry and skeletal appendage and felt those fingers tighten around his grip.

Edward Elric might look like he was dying, he might sound like the wind could just blow his soul away, but he was still hanging on strong, deep down inside, in a small corner of his being. The briefest glint of gold illuminated those wide dull orbs, and then was no more as weariness took his brother.

Alphonse again felt that rise of panic; no matter how many times he witnessed this action, no matter how many times he was forced to face the slow and laborious effect this elusive disease had on Edward, Alphonse always, always felt his heart stutter and stop, for just a second, and then it would resume, a frantic tattoo in his ribcage as his brother once again inhaled breath.

It never failed to make Alphonse's heart feel like lead when those sunken eyes focused on him, glazed over with pain, "You're cold." and the fact that Edward, who was fighting the searing pain in his head, his lungs, fighting with his entire being just to stay conscious, was more worried about Alphonse's well-being than his own only made the grief, the throb of helplessness in his brother's heart undo him.

The next thing Alphonse knew, he was choking on his tears, entire shaking so hard he was making the bed rattle. He heard Edward's sharp wheeze, felt his heart simply burst with anguish as he pressed his face into the cold mattress his brother lay upon, clung like his life depended on it to that gaunt hand, feeling cold seep into his bones, his soul. His sobs weren't quite muffled as he screamed into the mattress, pain, frustration, helplessness, denial all bearing down upon him in rolling waves, making his knees buckle and lay panting and spent, hand still gripping that hand.

Edward was silent, could do nothing but be silent as moving, speaking, breathing was more effort than he'd ever endured. But he made his fingers flex, his eyes swimming with regret, love, worry, guilt. An expression he wore so often it only made Alphonse weary.

He sat there, on the floor, on his knees; head hung low, eyes drenched with tears. "I'm sorry brother" he could barely manage the words, but if they didn't spill out of him now, he'd simply suffocate with them clogged in his throat, "I'm sorry it had to be this way, I'm sorry I cost you so much, I'm sorry I can't help you, I'm sorry I can't GO with you." The words only made his voice thick and hoarse, but he needed to say them, needed to let Edward know, understand.

"I love you." and when Alphonse raised his face, when the tears in those wide eyes that churned like storm clouds met dull amber, Edward felt the pain stop abruptly, felt a blessed numbness spread through his limbs. He opened his mouth, knowing, knowing he was close, it was close, could feel its cold breath down his back, searing into his heart, but Alphonse was speaking again.

"I love you as I will never love anything living, ever. And I need to tell you, need to let you know that when you leave me-" and here his voice broke, fresh tears slipping down his round cheeks, "when you leave" and know his voice simply overflowed with those tears, "you take a part of me with you, and I will never be whole again."

Edward wanted to say that he already knew, wanted to reassure his baby brother, his only brother, the only person he loved more than life itself that he didn't need to be sad. That no matter what, Edward would never part from him, nothing could part them, not fate, not a deity, not even death.

Soft lips pressed to a cold, dying, hand "Never. Never." Hot tears spilled over, and Edward finally, finally felt warmth.

"...Always...you..." it was all he could manage, all his dry throat and faint voice would let him choke out. And then, with his last dying breath, as gold bore into slate with a furious, burning intensity, "Always."

Alphonse stared down at his brother's still form. Even if fate had decided not to be cruel enough, Alphonse caught sight of a calendar hanging on the far wall, he managed a strangled croak, and then he broke down. Loud, choking sobs tearing from his lips like spilled blood.

It was his birthday.


End file.
